1: Meet the Captain of 10th Division
The building stood at the farthest edge of Soul Society, beyond where Rukongai dissolved into wilderness. A massive, obsidian structure that seemed less built than forced into existence—its walls smooth, without seam, swallowing moonlight like an endless void. People rarely spoke of it. Those who did called it The Black Edifice. It was a place whispered to belong to no division of the Seireitei, no noble house, no clan.
Yet inside, it thrived.
The sound of footsteps echoed in its long, empty hall. A lone figure walked calmly through the entrance, his sandals striking the cold stone. His presence was not timid, but deliberate. Shadows clung to him, drawn by his stride.
At the gate, two guards stepped forward. They were no Shinigami—their hollow masks were fractured, their skin pale, eyes cold. Arrancars. Both bore Espadrilles insignia across their uniforms.
One raised his hand.
"What is your work here?"
The man stopped. His gaze was steady, unreadable. Slowly, he pulled a folded parchment from within his robes and held it forward.
"The Priest has called."
The guards exchanged a long, tense glance. Their hollowed eyes flickered with recognition. Without another word, they stepped aside, letting the man pass through the archway.
He entered the heart of the building. Torches lit only fragments of the vast halls, drowning most of the interior in oppressive darkness. He walked until the light dimmed into shadow, until the air itself felt heavy.
Finally, he reached a chamber.
The room was vast but nearly empty. The walls were draped in black banners, and before them stood a single man. His back was turned, his figure cloaked in dark ceremonial robes. He stood still, as though frozen in time, before a painting lit by the faint glow of candlelight.
The painting was old, its colors weathered yet unmistakable. A man with brown hair, spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose, and a faint, confident grin that seemed to pierce the centuries.
Aizen.
The figure in the room—the Priest—did not turn immediately. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of wax dripping down a candle.
The man who had entered bowed slightly, his voice respectful but firm.
"Why have you called me here, Mr. Priest?"
The Priest remained motionless. The air seemed to press inward, silence suffocating. Finally, his voice drifted from the shadows—calm, deep, and unwavering.
"You are promoted."
The man blinked, his composure faltering for the first time.
"…Promoted?"
The Priest finally turned, his hood casting his face in darkness save for two faint glimmers of eyes. His tone sharpened.
"To a Squad Division Captain. Effective immediately. From this day, you command the 10th Division of the Espadrilles… Ryōsuke Shīmada."
The name fell heavy in the chamber. The Priest's voice echoed like a decree, final and absolute.
Ryosuke's eyes narrowed. For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze flickered to the painting—the faint grin of Aizen seemed to stare directly into him, as though mocking his hesitation.
His thoughts churned.
Captain…?
The 10th Division? Among outcasts, Hollows, and Arrancars?
Is this the path I chose when I turned my back on the Gotei?
He clenched his jaw.
Man… should I go back to the Gotei 13?
The thought stabbed at him, but it carried no certainty. He had left the Seireitei for a reason. Its laws were stagnant. Its Captains hypocrites. Yet here, in the shadow of Aizen's portrait, he felt the weight of chains just as heavy.
Still, he raised his head. His eyes met the Priest's hidden gaze, his voice steady once more.
"…Understood."
The Priest inclined his head slightly, almost like a benediction.
"Then lead them. Guide the 10th Squad, Ryosuke Shimada. For soon… our god will awaken."
The candles flickered. The painted grin of Aizen seemed to stretch wider in the wavering light.
Ryosuke's hand tightened at his side. His fate was sealed—whether by choice, or by the shadow of the man who stood smiling across a thousand years.
---
Author Note: Aizen is the G.O.A.T